


It's All Right

by Snekpoetry



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Aftercare, Cecil is Inhuman, Coffee, Dom Cecil, Dom/sub, Fluff and Angst and Smut, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mind meld I guess?, Minor spoilers for later seasons, Spanking, Sub Carlos, Trans Carlos, Vaginal Sex, We stan a femme top, chapter specific tags added starting in ch 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18582262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snekpoetry/pseuds/Snekpoetry
Summary: Life in Night Vale may be stressful, but Carlos knows he'll be alright, because Cecil takes care of him.(Unconnected scenes from a full time power exchange relationship.)





	1. Melted Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I had the uncontrollable urge to write some lifestyle D/s with service top Cecil.
> 
> Also I decided to start spelling Night Vale correctly. It just feels weird because my street ends with -vale.

When Cecil came home that night, to his delight he found Carlos bundled up in his bed. He took a moment to admire the cozy sight while he removed his earrings and unwound his sparkly purple scarf.

Pulling back the covers, he lay down and wrapped his arms around Carlos. He'd gone to bed in an old oversize shirt of Cecil's, and looking at it made something possessive coil inside Cecil. Stirring, Carlos rubbed his face against Cecil's chest, and Cecil's heart melted.

“Cecil?” It came out in a little sigh, pliant and sweet.

“I'm here. You're home early.” To prevent accidental allnighters in the lab, Carlos had a strict curfew of 9 pm, but he didn't usually stop doing science more than half an hour early.

“I felt tired.” He stretched. “I'm sorry I didn't do the dishes, Cecil.”

“ _No_ , I'm very--I'm glad and proud that you're taking care of yourself. That's the best thing you can do for me.”

Smiling at him, Carlos relaxed again, and Cecil spent several nonexistent minutes carding through that dark silken hair. He looked so peaceful, it made Cecil want to cocoon him in safety and adoration, to wind around him body and soul--

“Carlos. I want. Have you ever joined minds with someone?”

For a few minutes he wondered if Carlos had drifted off again, or if he were silently analyzing his statement.

“No, Cecil.”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes, Cecil.”

Cecil chuckled.

“No questions about it, my scientist?”

“I trust you.”

What a precious gift. In a surge of affection, Cecil kissed his forehead.

“Alright. Just lie still and calm then. I'll take care of you." 

He stretched out his consciousness toward the warm radiance that was Carlos. There--Cecil felt the edge of his mind, almost like a shell. Or more like a membrane, since it was permeable. He touched it in the same way that he was hugging Carlos, firm and gentle, and felt the barrier dissolve. With a blissful moan, Carlos accepted him, and Cecil sank into his mind like melting honey. Inside he found a dreamy golden haze with a constant murmur of _cecilcecilcecil_ in his mind's ear.

Cecil let them bask in togetherness a while, and carefully rippled against Carlos with a wave of his own affection and pride. In return he sensed a desperate spike of pleasure, like a live wire, as Carlos whimpered. Cecil cooed at him, both in and outside of their entwined thoughts.

Oh. Something felt tense and closed off in another portion of Carlos’ mind. Like anxiety or fear, perhaps. Cecil wouldn't invade, of course, but he couldn't have his Carlos worried, if he could help it.

He draped himself over that part like a blanket--Carlos shivered and a shadow passed over him, an emotion Cecil couldn't quite place. Radiating love and reassurance, Cecil increased his metaphorical weight as though trying to massage a tense knot of muscle.

_I'm not going inside. I just don't want you in pain._

Something unraveled. Carlos shifted on the outside, and clung to Cecil on the inside.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cecil murmured in his ear.

“Oh Cecil, I…”

_I hurt you. In the desert._

Oh. _Oh._ Cecil embraced him tightly. Yes, there had been despair and dull agony that year, but now was not the time to talk about it. Not with Carlos so vulnerable in his submissiveness.

“I was hurt,” he agreed carefully, smoothing a hand across Carlos’ forehead. “We were both hurting. I don't want us to hurt any more.”

Something wet leaked out of Carlos’ eyes.

_Cecil…_

“I don't hold it against you,” Cecil continued. “I never did. All I ask is that you give yourself the same kindness.”

He gave him a moment to think on that. Then he felt Carlos feel acquiescence, and peace.

“Yes, Cecil.”

Smiling, Cecil kissed anywhere he could reach, and he stroked gently where their minds touched.

Carlos arched with a soundless cry and his thoughts reached out for more of Cecil's incorporeal form. With a purr, Cecil ghosted down deeper, luxuriating in how their emotions ran together. He trailed his fingers up Carlos’ leg, stopping just below where the shirt ended.

“Are you bare underneath?” Before Carlos could do more than hum dreamily, Cecil pushed up the fabric and ran his hands over Carlos’ naked ass and the triangle of fur between his hips.

“I'm going to fuck your thighs.”

“Yes, Cecil,” said Carlos, parting his legs just a little, and oh they _glistened_ in between.

With the curve of Carlos’ ass pressed back against him, Cecil slid his tentacles into that warm soft space between his thighs. Groaning at the heat, he heard Carlos give a soft little sigh, as his wetness leaked out to join the tentacles’ natural lubrication. Wriggling against Carlos’ slit, Cecil flicked at the engorged head of his cock. In answer, Carlos’ mind thrummed against him with blissed out lust, and Cecil nuzzled his hair.

_My Carlos._

A giggle.

“Yes, I'm your Carlos.”

Slipping his hand under the sleepshirt, Cecil slid up past hips and abdomen to the soft weight of a breast.  

“I'm glad you took your binder off to sleep. Thank you for remembering.”

As he kneaded it and rolled the nipple, Cecil scanned for feelings of discomfort, or a sign that he should stop, but found none. As an offering of thanks to whatever capricious forces governed dysphoria, he pressed a kiss behind Carlos’ ear.

 _Cecil!_ Carlos sounded desperate, hips making quick, erratic movements as if he weren't sure how to get relief.

“Oh? You want to finish, don't you? I'm going to hold you like this--” _And like this._ “--so I can feel you peak and spill over.”

Immobilized in Cecil's embrace, Carlos could only whimper, relief and safety oozing through his thoughts. Drenched in Carlos’ wetness, Cecil’s tentacles squirmed faster. The delicate ends folded back Carlos’ hood and massaged his stiff cock.

“Come for me, you sweet little thing.”

Squirting as he jerked, Carlos gave a silent scream, which propelled Cecil to release jets of viscous slime from his tentacles.

He held his trembling Carlos, laying his own presence like a balm over the raw emotions till they quieted.

Later he would bathe Carlos and feed him. Maybe do those dishes. But now…

“What a nice way to unwind from broadcasting all day.”

Carlos patted his wrist.

“Welcome home, honey-voiced honey.”


	2. Cinnamon and Moonblood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos brings Cecil coffee at the radio station.

"Alright guys, I'm off. Good work today."

The scientists bade him goodbye with a scattering of distracted waves and an “Oh shit, turn down that Bunsen burner!”

“I'm just...gonna go take some Starbucks to Cecil,” said Carlos to no one in particular. Of course, the station had coffee, but Carlos was ready with his explanation about how they'd reached their quota of angry chanting for the day and Cecil had already drunk the whole pot (it was just that kind of day) and besides, he wanted a cinnamon and moonblood latte delivered personally by his favourite scientist.

All of which was true, and irrelevant. But no one asked, so Carlos simply went on his way.

At the station, coffee in hand, he waited for a commercial break before slipping into the studio.

Cecil lit up when he saw him, taking a long blissful swig of his latte. Then he fixed Carlos with a _look._

“In 23 seconds, this word from our sponsors will end. Wonderful Carlos, did you come all this way just to bring me coffee?”

Carlos shook his head. It was ok now. He could stop pretending to be a capable adult who wasn't feeling desperate to curl up at his dominant's feet.

“Come here and sit under my desk.” Cecil pushed back his chair to give him room.

“Is-is that ok? I could wait for you at home--”

“Ten. Nine. Eight--”

With a thrill of adrenaline, Carlos rushed forward and dove under the desk.

“Three. Two. _Perfect.”_ Cecil ran a hand through Carlos’ hair. “And we're back, listeners! I feel positively rejuvenated. A certain _gorgeous and thoughtful_ person stopped by to bring me coffee on his way home from the lab--I had wanted to try that new cinnamon and moonblood flavor, you know? And it's delicious! But enough about my personal life. Back to our story on the mysterious hum that's been permeating the air at every major intersection…”

Breathing deeply, Carlos leaned against Cecil's knee, just below where his pencil skirt ended. His nylon stockings felt good on Carlos’ cheek. Absently he ran his hands over the many buckles of Cecil's stiletto boots, grounding himself with the sensation.

“You know, listeners, my feet have really been hurting lately. It's a good thing my job doesn't usually involve a lot of walking. I mean, I could even go barefoot in my studio, and you'd never be able to tell.” He nudged Carlos’ leg with his shoe. “Of course, Station Management _would_ be able to tell (although I'm not sure if they understand or care about footwear), which is why I don't usually do that.”

Hmm? Oh! Rousing a little, Carlos undid the buckles on Cecil's boots. He bent down to kiss each instep as it was freed, and then began rubbing Cecil's feet as best he could. Although he wasn't a masseuse or a physical therapist (just a scientist), Cecil didn't sound pained or pull his feet away, so Carlos probably wasn't botching it.

During the next commercial, Cecil bent down to smile at him.

“Thank you for the foot rub, Carlos. I feel much better. Now I want you to take off your binder.”

“Yes, Cecil,” he whispered as the on-air light came back on. Wriggling out of his labcoat, flannel shirt and binder, he laid them aside for now. With dreamy unconcern, he wondered what Cecil had in store for him. The order to remove his binder suggested that he would need unrestricted breathing.

Feeling small, Carlos curled up on the floor at Cecil's feet. Cecil lifted one leg, graceful in its black nylon, to brush his toes across Carlos’ shoulder and back.

_Swish… Swish…_

By the weather report, Carlos had almost dozed off. Dimly he realized that Cecil was looking down at him with fond tenderness.

“Alright, my love?”

“Mhmm.”

“You just needed a break from the world, is that it?”

In response, Carlos sat up slowly and nuzzled against Cecil's thigh. Those long legs twined around him like an embrace, or a comforting restraint.

“I'll take such good care of you, at home.” An edge came into Cecil's voice, and he traced one fingernail across Carlos' shoulder blade. “There's just _one thing_ we need to do first. But it's a short weather today, so wait a little longer for me.”

Shivering pleasantly, Carlos waited, still and quiet, until the final _goodnight._ With a sigh, Cecil leaned back in his chair. Then he lifted up Carlos’ chin, and plucked the glasses off his upturned face. Carlos blushed as Cecil tucked them into his blouse.

“Bare your ass,” Cecil ordered, “and lie across my lap.”

Blush deepening, Carlos tugged down his jeans and boxers. As he bent over that immaculate pencil skirt, he felt like a helpless sloppy disaster, and thanked the uncaring universe that Cecil took the time to correct and nurture him.

Once he was situated (Cecil's radio chair was suspiciously perfect for this), Cecil rubbed his bottom and spoke soothingly.

“Do you know why I'm punishing you?”

For the life of him, Carlos couldn't remember where he'd strayed from the rules.

“No, Cecil. I'm sorry.”

“I know you are, precious Carlos. That's why--well, I had thought to give you twenty strokes, two for each of those dreadful minutes that you made me wait last night. But you've been so good today that I'll take it down to fifteen.”

He remembered now. Last night he'd just _had_ to jot down a few ideas about the odd way sand behaved in Night Vale. True, he’d been engrossed, but he had also tried to hurry, because Cecil didn't really like him to take work home. He hadn't even heard Cecil calling him to bed until his hands slammed down on the desk on either side of Carlos' hunched back, and he growled “if you don't _come now,_ you won't get to” in his ear.

So he did, and he had, over and over. Cecil had been merciless to his sensitivity and begging.

“I remember, Cecil,” he mumbled.

“Good. Tell me, are there any places of void?” That was his way of asking what body parts Carlos didn't want him to touch, due to dysphoria or whatever else.

“No, there's--I mean, wait. Just my chest.”

“It is void to me,” Cecil promised solemnly.

_Whack!_

Carlos cried out at the sharp sting. Cecil had a good arm, probably from years of bowling at the Desert Flower, and he didn't hold back. Before long Carlos’ ass was on fire, and he bit his lip as tears leaked out of his eyes.

Cecil stopped. Had that been fifteen? Surely not. With barely a caress of his leaking folds, Cecil stuck two fingers inside Carlos and fucked him briskly. Carlos' face flushed hot in surprise. To suddenly be taken, _used_ in that hole...

“You can cry or scream if you want,” said Cecil, voice all deep smooth silk. “My studio is soundproof. Besides, there's no one here. I think Station Management is out on a date with the City Council.”

Just as the invasion was starting to feel good, Cecil pulled his hand out of Carlos and pinched his cock hard, yanking it until he yelped in pain. Leaning across him, Cecil smeared his sticky fingers against Carlos' lips.

“Clean them.”

Shutting his eyes tightly, Carlos sucked them clean of his juices.

When the spanking continued, he was much more vocal, because Cecil knew just how to make him cry. Carlos whined. He gasped. He mewled, body inflamed with heat and desire.

Finally Cecil pulled him up off his lap via a hand tangled in his hair.

“I know it hurts, Carlos.” His voice tickled his ear, prim and cool, but not without sympathy. “That's what a punishment is for.” Standing up, he manhandled him over to the desk, and bent Carlos across it. The wood was smooth under his cheek.

He heard, or really _felt_ a rustle of cloth behind him. With a satisfied groan, Cecil shoved into him, all of his cock tendrils twisting inside Carlos' tight core. For a moment the slippery nylon felt good on his smarting cheeks, but Cecil wasn't gentle. He took him rough and fast, holding him down by the neck against the hard desk. Cecil had said he could scream, so Carlos did. Everything combined into a storm of sensation, the tentacles stretching and pistoning in him, while somewhere up above Cecil loudly moaned his enjoyment.

“Such a tight, slutty fuckhole.” Cecil sounded incongruously adoring, as though he were drunk on Carlos. “Your body can't wait to suck my cum out, can you?” He raked his nails across Carlos' back. “Say “I'm for your pleasure, Cecil’.”

In a voice thick with tears, Carlos said,  “I'm for your pleasure, Cecil.” And he truly was, body and soul.

“Oh, _Carlos.”_ Cecil thrust hard into him and came, tentacles spasming.

Then Carlos was empty, and next thing he knew, a rough forked tongue was cleaning him out _slowly._ It probably didn't take very long, but it felt like forever as Cecil tongued across his slit and burning cock, licked him till he came with a shuddering sob.

His head spun as Cecil gathered him down into his lap and rocked him, petting his hair. Sniffling, Carlos listened as Cecil hummed a few of his favorite Old Testament rock ballads.

“Darling, beloved Carlos, you're so sweet to me,” he murmured between stanzas. “We're going home now, alright? Tonight I'm going to spoil you. We'll eat falafel on the couch while watching the new Cosmos with Neil Gaiman. Then I'm going to take a bubble bath with you and wash your gorgeous hair. And the gorgeous rest of you.” He laid his cheek on top of Carlos' head. “Then you'll sleep safe and warm in my arms, until the sun wakes us with its shrieking.”

Drained but peaceful, Carlos looked up at him, and Cecil cupped his tear-stained face.

“Ready to go home, my love?”

Carlos nodded, and let Cecil get him presentable again.

He didn't bring work home for at least a week after that.


	3. Fluid Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sickfic and eventual smut. Cecil takes care of Carlos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter specific tags  
> Sick fic (headaches and nausea, nothing more though), orgasm delay/denial, cockwarming, anal, briefly interacting with the g spot

"Carlos, are you alright?"

Huh? A hand slid across his shoulder, rubbing away the stiffness and sleep. Had he passed out at his desk? Ow.

"I came home and found you like this. Are you sick?" Cecil sounded worried--no, _concerned._

When Carlos tried sitting up, his head swam and he clenched his throat against nausea. Bad idea. With a groan he lowered his cheek to the papers strewn across the hard desk.

"Head hurts," he mumbled. "Like 'm hungover. But I didn't drink anything…"

"I think that may be the problem. Have you been forgetting to stay hydrated?" Cecil went away and then came back with a glass of water. He helped Carlos sit up enough to sip at it while Cecil stroked through his sweat damp hair.

"Normally I would bathe you, but I think you just need rest," Cecil murmured thoughtfully. "Is the water helping?"

Carlos nodded, gingerly, and leaned against Cecil’s waist. He smelled like cloves and oranges.

"Let's get you to bed, then. I won't leave your side until you feel better."

As they moved to the bedroom, Carlos’ only clear thought was how soft the bed and pillows felt, like a cradle for his weak limbs. Cecil stripped him down to his boxers and tucked him in, making Carlos drink some more water before he climbed in himself. Although his head was still spinning and sore, Cecil’s arms and tentacles curled around his body to hold him safe and steady. Carlos let Cecil’s closeness lull him to sleep.

\--

When he woke, Carlos felt much better, although his head still ached just a little. Sitting up, he reached across Cecil to get the water glass, and drained it. Ugh, dehydration was awful. Definitely something to watch out for when he was sciencing.

Looking down at Cecil, he felt a fond warmth. Cecil was always so good to him, even when Carlos made him worry. Right now he wanted to return the favor somehow. Do something nice for Cecil. He considered waking him up with a blowjob or something, but they hadn't talked about somnophilia yet. Maybe he could make breakfast?

...Not if he wanted it to be a surprise. Cecil still had his tentacles manifested in a loose nest around them both, and Carlos knew from experience that climbing over them would wake Cecil up, no matter how careful he was.

Aha! He had an idea.

Leaning across Cecil again, Carlos got the lube out of their bedside table. Then he squirted some on his fingers and realized that, scientifically speaking, he should have shimmied out of his boxers first. Anyway, he managed to get himself onto his knees, face down and ass up as he reached between his legs to rub at his pucker.

Since they usually used his front hole, it would take some time for Carlos to prep himself, but he was happy about that for two reasons. For one thing, it gave Cecil a chance to wake up and take what Carlos was offering, if he wanted to. And for Carlos’ body, preparing for anal took patience and effort and a bit of discomfort, and that was exactly the kind of thing he wanted to do for Cecil right now.

Sighing into the mattress, Carlos finger fucked himself, imagining how lewd he must look. He loved the way this position made his ears heat up, as he presented himself to be fucked. To distract himself from the stretch, he pictured the delighted expression he hoped Cecil would have. The man loved Carlos’ ass almost as much as his hair, probably.

A warm hand brushed down his spine.

"What a beautiful sight you are, my Carlos. Are you feeling better?"

"A lot better." Carlos turned his head to look at Cecil. "I wanted to thank you. For taking care of me."

"You know I love whatever you give me," Cecil said warmly. "If you're ready for me I'll take you, as long as we're careful. Did you finish the water?"

"Yes, Cecil."

"I'm glad. Dehydration is the leading cause of throat spiders. On your back, Carlos."

When he rolled over, Cecil picked up the bottle of lube and squirted it directly into Carlos’ ass. Then he was covering Carlos, pressing down and kissing him deeply as his cock tendrils teased him open. Carlos groaned as he felt Cecil’s tendrils swell with arousal, twisting together into a thick phallus that slowly breached him.

Cecil relaxed on top of him, motionless except for the gentle rolls of his hips. Although craving a bit more friction, Carlos tried to enjoy the tantalizing pace. This was for Cecil after all, and Carlos loved hiding in Cecil’s neck while he pinned him against mattress.

But then Cecil stopped moving altogether, and Carlos wondered if he'd fallen asleep. He was close, as it turned out. Without pulling out, Cecil rolled to the side, winding all his limbs snugly around Carlos.

"Let's take a nap. I'm still sleepy."

"Cecil!" Carlos whined. He was so horny.

Unmoved, Cecil tenderly rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip.

"I don't want to tire you out too soon after you after you were ill, Carlos."

"Yes, Cecil." He melted into submission, as a wave of helpless adoring lust washed over him. No need to worry. Cecil was embracing, penetrating, and holding him safe.

Carlos drifted in and out of sleep, with the warm buzz of arousal in the back of his mind. Every time he shifted, the tentacles rubbed against his walls, drawing soft moans out of him as he dozed.

Not that time was real, but some time later a deep commanding voice purred in his ear.

"Wake up."

Carlos’ eyes snapped open, legs already spreading as Cecil moved between them. He loved when Cecil let that hard edge show, when he went from _taking care of_ to simply _taking._

Holding his thighs apart, Cecil slammed into him at a brutal pace. Yes, _this_ is what Carlos wanted. All he could do was whimper and moan and scream as Cecil fucked him. Above him Cecil bared his teeth in a smile, fierce and beautiful. Carlos was his and Cecil knew it.

Breathing hard, Cecil sat back on his heels.

"Touch yourself. I want to watch and feel you come."

With a shaky hand Carlos rubbed at his cock. Under the weight of Cecil’s gaze, he bit his lip in frustration. It wasn't enough--his arm felt weak and rubbery as he tried to finish.

Oh! He arched as Cecil caressed his folds and then stuck a finger inside to rub his G spot. That space felt so much tighter with something in his ass.

"So beautiful," Cecil crooned. "You're going to come for me, aren't you? Come with your perfect ass tight around my cock. That's it, I can feel you sucking me in. Pleasure yourself, Carlos. Make us both climax…!"

"Oh Cecil, _yes!_ " Carlos cried out as he obeyed. Cecil ground hard into him, throwing back his head as he finished with a warm gush of fluid.

As he cleaned them both up, Cecil gave him a sweet smile, and Carlos’ stomach fluttered. He had pleased Cecil. That was wonderful.

"Carlos, can you walk with me to the kitchen?"

"I don't know, Cecil." A pause. He should be honest. "I don't think so."

"Then you're exactly how I want you." Cecil gathered him into his arms and tentacles. "I'm going to carry you instead, and we'll eat breakfast and drink _plenty of fluids_ , and you're not going to make yourself sick this time."

Carlos thought that sounded pretty neat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dehydration headaches suck. I wasn't sure what kind of ailment Carlos was going to have, but then while writing this I woke up and my body helpfully reminded me that I hadn't drunk enough the day before, so in between fighting my nausea I felt *~inspiration~*. Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> By the way, I'm trans (ftm). Forgot if I mentioned that in this fic. 
> 
> I have another pretty intense and more "scene"-like chapter in the works, so look forward to that.


	4. Icing Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A *scene* that took more planning on both Cecil's and my part. Carlos explores femininity under Cecil's safe and watchful eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't take this as kink advice for real life. I just wrote what I found hot. >.>
> 
> Anyway tags: female-coded terms for body parts (but no misgendering), lingerie, clamps (nipple and otherwise), ropewalking, sexy genital torture (no breaking skin or graphic descriptions but there are thumbtacks), mention of transphobia/dysphoria, Cecil protecting his science kink onto Carlos

He felt pretty. And that was bittersweet and weird, even for Night Vale. He'd grown up in sneakers and jeans, fighting his way out of Easter dresses, and getting mistaken for a lesbian even though he was "straight."

The fact was, Carlos had never actually learned to walk in heels, especially not after transition. So Cecil, femme and queer and wearing six inch stiletto heels with his leather pants, had decided to teach him exactly that. He'd given Carlos' low-heeled Mary Janes, which did even less than usual for their height difference. But that was a blessing in disguise, because it meant Cecil's long legs could effortlessly straddle the rope that dug into Carlos' naked slit.

And that was fine. For once Carlos couldn't even quantify how much better than fine he felt.

Oh right, he'd better pay attention. It was hard to concentrate on Cecil's instruction, what with the silky knots rubbing through his slick.

"Take a step forward. That's it, you're balancing so much better now. You look wonderful in red, my Carlos--but I knew that from your flannel shirt collection."

Blushing, Carlos ducked his head. Cecil's eyes literally glowed with what looked like lust and pride. He had dressed Carlos in a pair of thigh stockings, a lacy garter belt, and an underbust corset of smooth satin.

Massaging one of his breasts, Cecil leaned forward to kiss him.  

"I bet the rope feels good against your clit," he murmured against his mouth.

"Oh _yes._ My clit feels so good," Carlos moaned. He'd asked for different terms for his body during this scene. It took a leap of faith, but he knew Cecil would never see him as less of a man.

"Good. Now stand up straight. I'm not done making you pretty." Cecil attached a clamp to each nipple, with a fine silver chain dangling between them. The metal felt cold but the pinch burned. Then he did the same to the inner lips of his...of his pussy.

Closing his eyes, Carlos took a trembling breath as he fought to keep quiet. The movement of his chest made the chain swing a little.

After a thoughtful pause, Cecil pulled the lower chain taught, stretching his lips down and then together. Then he added a third clip to hold everything in place, creating a tight tunnel of flesh around the rope.  

Looking up with heavy lidded eyes, Cecil grinned, and that beautifully cruel man tugged hard on the chain between Carlos' breasts.

"Come into my office, Carlos. Chop chop, step lively." Pulling him along, Cecil practically danced on his stilettos, without even looking over his shoulder. Meanwhile Carlos stumbled and flailed, gasping as each knot pushed past his clit.

The rope ended at the big leather armchair behind the desk. Their home office wasn't really Cecil's, but Carlos had lent it to him because they wanted somewhere illicit but not actually inconvenient in which to fuck, and the office being "Cecil's" gave him a suitable air of authority.

While Carlos caught his breath, Cecil unclipped the clamps, and Carlos winced as the blood rushed back. Cecil reached down to rub between Carlos' legs.

"Such a pretty clit," he mouthed into their kiss. "So stiff and wet. I have a present for you." Pulling back the clitoral hood, he slipped a small tight cock ring onto Carlos, and nuzzled his cheek. "Whenever your clit gets hard, I want you to remember how much I love you." Carlos' mouth fell open at that, and he sighed blissfully.

"You've been so patient for me, and I'm sure your feet must ache. Just a little longer." Gathering Carlos into his arms and tentacles, Cecil lifted him off the rope like he weighed nothing, and then set him gently on his feet.

"Hold onto me, darling, and step into these." Cecil held open a pair of red panties, and Carlos silently followed his instructions. The panties clung snugly to his ass, and Cecil's three eyes lingered on it for a good ten seconds before he continued the scene.

"You must be tired, poor thing," he purred. "Come keep me company while I work." He settled on the armchair with Carlos on his lap, thighs spread around his waist.

For a few minutes Cecil shuffled around his papers, as though he found them far more interesting than the half naked man on his lap. In contented subspace, Carlos rested his head on the other's shoulder. It felt nice to be off his feet, and Cecil smelled good; comforting and arousing both at once. There was probably a scientific reason for that, but he was drifting somewhere safe and it didn't matter.

Sighing, Cecil leaned back. He picked up a glass of water from the desk.

"Drink."

Carlos drank.

With his arm snugly around him, Cecil leaned them both sideways so he could reach something on the floor. Carlos' heart skipped a beat when he saw what it was: an Erlenmyer flask, filled with golden thumbtacks.

Cecil shook the flask a little, and bared his teeth in a grin. "I bet you want me to stuff your panties with these. Give your gorgeous lewd pussy something to grind against."

Carlos whined. He wanted that. In fact he wanted them stuffed inside him, filling up his hole with sharp punishing pricks. When he'd told Cecil about this fantasy, Cecil had vetoed the idea for safety reasons, but they had a compromise for later.

Pulling Carlos' waistband open, Cecil poured the tacks down the front of his panties. Carlos squirmed as they bit into the sensitive folds, trapped against him by the hard thigh he was straddling. With the leather pants protecting Cecil, Carlos could grind against him to his heart's content. So he did, with little gasps and whimpers, while Cecil helped by pressing down on his hips.

Oh god the tacks were sharp and perfect. Tenderly, Cecil reached down and caressed his crotch through the fabric.

"Look at you, getting off to having your pussy tortured. It makes you very hard to punish, you know. I have to get creative."

Sudden and rough, Cecil stood up and bent him over the desk. When he pulled the panties down Carlos' thighs, some of the tacks fell to the floor with a clatter. But most remained either stuck lightly to his skin or gathered in the crotch of the panties.

Something cold nudged his folds and slowly pushed in. Carlos bit his lip. It was their compromise: a spiked dildo, and even with lube it made him want to weep with delicious pain. Fireworks went off in his brain as the hard little spines slid deeper until he was full. Then Cecil pulled the panties up again and massaged Carlos' ass while he caught his breath.

"Stand up, my love. We're going to practice dancing in your heels." Cecil held him close and slow danced with him, supporting most of his weight. The thumbtacks tortured his lips and clit, but Carlos barely noticed. Vision blurry with tears, he whimpered at the dildo's bite, but Cecil shushed him sweetly and stroked his hair. Graceful and airy, Cecil hummed a song in a low haunting baritone and Carlos clung to that voice, one grounding element in his sensory overload.

When they stopped, Cecil spent a full minute kissing his tear-streaked face. He tugged on the lacy waistband of the panties.

"Let's get you out of these, darling." After helping Carlos out of them, Cecil brushed cool fingertips across his folds. He tapped on the dildo. "Don't let it fall out. I want you to brace yourself on my desk."

Feeling like an ungainly mess, Carlos gripped the edge of the desk and bent forward. Even so, Cecil let out a lovestruck sigh and smacked his asscheek. Carlos cried out as he tightened around the spines, and blushed when Cecil called him gorgeous.

With a slow firm slide, Cecil pulled the dildo out and held it between his own thighs.

"Fuck yourself," he purred, deep and irresistible.

Panting with effort, Carlos did as he was told, the only sounds his own whimpers and the squelching of his tortured pussy. After some number of moments, Cecil bent over him, kissing his shoulder with fevered urgency as his fingers found Carlos' clit.

"So hard and full of blood. You want to come, don't you?" He took off the cockring and replaced it with a...tube of cool, slick glass? Wait, surely he wasn't--

"I wonder what they'd think of you at Erlenmyer Flask Con, my lewd little scientist? Do you fuck all your scientific instruments?"

With sparks in his brain, and so many limbs caressing his beautiful trans body, Carlos came, and Cecil caught him just before he collapsed. Gently Cecil pulled the dildo out of him and held him as he shook. Bit by bit he undressed Carlos and wrapped him in a fuzzy blanket before carrying him to the bedroom.

"Are you alright?" Cecil asked as Carlos snuggled against his chest. "Did you like that?"

He thought about time, the time he'd spent distancing himself from femininity, first for dysphoria and then for safety. He thought about space, the space Cecil and Night Vale gave him in which to explore being femme and visibly queer. To acknowledge having a body that wasn't cis.

"I liked it, Cecil. I liked it a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As someone who's fucked the bristle end of my hairbrush I could make an educated guess about what Carlos was feeling. :V
> 
> This took so long but it's here. Yay!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey does anyone know where the Night Vale fandom is these days? I just wanna gush with people about Cecilos.


End file.
